London Homecoming Excerpt:
Kenneth, the acting board president, leaned both hands on the polished edge of the table and stared directly at Blake. “You need a wife.”
Blake’s laughter cut into the tense silence of the boardroom, confirming his suspicion that a hidden motive drove this last-minute Sunday morning board meeting. Blake rubbed his hand on his trousers, but kept the easy grin on his face. As he glanced around the room, the only person who looked surprised by the notion was his Aunt Dot. She gave him a sympathetic look, but they both knew she was outnumbered on the bank’s board ten to one. Blake turned back to Kenneth. “You can’t be serious.”
“We are completely serious.”
Blake clenched his teeth to stop the words ready to spew from his lips. He’d agreed to remain in London as interim President, and he was willing to do anything—anything!—to keep the bank solvent while his father recovered from his stroke. Work ninety-hour weeks. Suck up to every client on the books. Hell, he’d even eat chicken again, if that was what it took. But marriage? These people were dreaming if they thought he would get married because they decreed it. “No.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Kenneth said. “This is not a request.” He pointed his long, bony finger at Blake. “Your reputation is causing problems for the bank. The parties. The women. The drugs and alcohol.” He tossed an open tabloid on the smooth mahogany table.
The headline read, “Playboy heir to use bank funds for drugs and women.” Next to it was a picture of Marissa in a string bikini with her trademark long black hair blowing in the wind. Blake’s arms were wrapped around her, his hand resting on her famous fanny. She was looking at him with a wide smile, love flashing in her eyes. Tellingly, his gaze was focused on something behind her.
His stomach rolled over at the memory, and the cheese danish he’d had for breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. He supposed he’d never be free of the pain. Good. He deserved every second of turmoil the memories his relationship with Marissa evoked. But he refused to show his weakness in front of anyone, especially these wankers. And if they could show him anything to make him less inclined toward marriage, that was it. He picked up the paper and tossed it back to Kenneth, making certain the photo no longer faced up. “I don’t do drugs.”
Kenneth snorted in disbelief. “You have a reputation. And it’s hurting this bank. We’re already hearing grumblings from clients who are dissatisfied with your father’s pick of interim president. We can’t afford to lose any more business.”
“Then put Simon in charge. We all know he’s got the background and reputation to keep this bank thriving.” His brother had always been the responsible one. Unlike Blake.
“We can’t do that,” Nathaniel said. “When your father cut Simon out of the bank, he named you interim president if he became unable to perform his duties.”
Blake asked the question he should have asked when he’d first found out that he’d been placed in his father’s position. “Then why not find someone else to take my place?”
Nathaniel and Kenneth exchanged a glance. “Because if you decline the position, the board is required to put Ruleford’s up for sale. RBS has already expressed their continued interest,” Kenneth said.
“Vultures,” Nathanial said under his breath.
Blake swallowed, but the sour taste didn’t go away. Leave it to his father to find the one thing that would keep him in line. Ruleford’s Bank had been controlled by his family for four-hundred years, and it was all coming down to him. Blake couldn’t be the one to lose it for his family. It was perhaps the one thing his father had been able to instill in his youngest child—a deep respect for the history and the sanctity of the bank.
The locks were turning, one by one, trapping him here for the foreseeable future. He was a placeholder, a coat placed on a chair to save it, until his father recovered from his stroke and returned to the bank. And every man—and woman— in this room knew it.
Although Blake was the acting President, his father had given him absolutely zero power to do anything. Hell, he couldn’t even issue a memo without someone on the board approving it. He wanted to disappear. Hide from the knowledge that his father didn’t believe he could run the bank.
And yet, the board had agreed to this farce. What did that say about their intelligence?
“A reputable wife would lend you respectability,” Kenneth said, “and be good for public relations. It wouldn’t need to be permanent.”
Blake laughed. “I highly doubt any respectable woman would agree to a fake marriage to anyone—including me—even if only for a few short months.”
Kenneth looked as though he’d swallowed something sour. “I could speak to my granddaughter. Gemma has a strong sense of duty toward her family.”
The last time Blake saw Gemma she was at Club Noir wearing a see-through top and snorting coke off the abs of an American pop star. Perhaps not the best choice. If he was going to be shackled to some woman, it certainly wouldn’t be Gemma. Even he had standards.
Blake drew a slow breath to calm himself. What he really wanted to do was put his fist through Kenneth’s condescending face. As he glanced around the room, a few board members refused to look him in the eyes. A few more shifted uneasily in their seats. Good. At least some of them were uncomfortable with the scheme.
The situation was ridiculous. Crazy. But he didn’t see a way out of it. Even if he did agree to a sham marriage, how was he supposed to make it believable? A marriage needed a shared history. A relationship. An engagement.
Which gave him an idea.
God, he really hated his father right now.
“A fake engagement,” he ground out. It wasn’t ideal, but it was certainly better than marriage, in all its legal and moral complications. “I’ll agree to a fake engagement—to someone of my own choosing—that’s as far as I’ll go.” He hoped he was reading the group correctly.
“We said marriage,” Kenneth said.
“You want me to pretend to be respectable. You want me to publicly declare my intentions of settling down. An engagement will do that just as well as a marriage.”
“He does have a point, Kenneth,” Aunt Dot said from the end of the table. “An engagement will lend the patina of respectability just as well as marriage. And be more believable, given the time frame we’re working with.” A few of the other board members nodded their heads in agreement.
Thank God he had one person in his corner versus the bastion of overdressed men who thought too highly of their own abilities. Blake tugged on the cuffs of his dress shirt and hoped to God his father recovered sooner rather than later, because he didn’t think he could take six more months of Kenneth’s polka-dot bow-ties and condescending attitude.
Kenneth looked around the table, his eyes narrowing at the loss of his support. He returned his dark eyes to Blake. “The board will need approval of this person.”
Blake swallowed the words that wanted to force their way out. “Of course,” he said. He would give anything to be on a beach in the Caribbean right now. Hell, he’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now.
“And,” Kenneth continued, “you need to announce it publicly. Within the week. And of course, no drugs. No partying. No clubs while you’re the acting head of the bank.”
As if they thought he’d be out partying while his father recovered from a stroke in hospital. Of course, if the shoe fit…. Clenching his jaw, Blake nodded his assent.
“Do we need to vote?” He looked around the table. “Verbal?” Several of the board members nodded their approval. “All in favor?” A chorus of ayes met his question. “Opposed?”
Bloody Hell I’m opposed. But he supposed no one heard his thoughts, and silence met the question.
“Approved.” Kenneth once again pointed his skeletal finger at Blake. “You had better make sure this engagement is believable. We need to improve your reputation as quickly as possible.”
He couldn’t help himself. Blake saluted him. “Yes, sir!”
Kenneth pursed his lips in disapproval before turning his chair away with a squeak.
Blake was left with the uncomfortable feeling that he’d just sold his soul to the devil. And no idea where he would find this paragon of virtue who would agree to a fake engagement with someone like him.
Most important, he needed someone who would never in a million years fall for him. He’d almost prefer losing the bank to that.
Buy:
Blake’s laughter cut into the tense silence of the boardroom, confirming his suspicion that a hidden motive drove this last-minute Sunday morning board meeting. Blake rubbed his hand on his trousers, but kept the easy grin on his face. As he glanced around the room, the only person who looked surprised by the notion was his Aunt Dot. She gave him a sympathetic look, but they both knew she was outnumbered on the bank’s board ten to one. Blake turned back to Kenneth. “You can’t be serious.”
“We are completely serious.”
Blake clenched his teeth to stop the words ready to spew from his lips. He’d agreed to remain in London as interim President, and he was willing to do anything—anything!—to keep the bank solvent while his father recovered from his stroke. Work ninety-hour weeks. Suck up to every client on the books. Hell, he’d even eat chicken again, if that was what it took. But marriage? These people were dreaming if they thought he would get married because they decreed it. “No.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Kenneth said. “This is not a request.” He pointed his long, bony finger at Blake. “Your reputation is causing problems for the bank. The parties. The women. The drugs and alcohol.” He tossed an open tabloid on the smooth mahogany table.
The headline read, “Playboy heir to use bank funds for drugs and women.” Next to it was a picture of Marissa in a string bikini with her trademark long black hair blowing in the wind. Blake’s arms were wrapped around her, his hand resting on her famous fanny. She was looking at him with a wide smile, love flashing in her eyes. Tellingly, his gaze was focused on something behind her.
His stomach rolled over at the memory, and the cheese danish he’d had for breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. He supposed he’d never be free of the pain. Good. He deserved every second of turmoil the memories his relationship with Marissa evoked. But he refused to show his weakness in front of anyone, especially these wankers. And if they could show him anything to make him less inclined toward marriage, that was it. He picked up the paper and tossed it back to Kenneth, making certain the photo no longer faced up. “I don’t do drugs.”
Kenneth snorted in disbelief. “You have a reputation. And it’s hurting this bank. We’re already hearing grumblings from clients who are dissatisfied with your father’s pick of interim president. We can’t afford to lose any more business.”
“Then put Simon in charge. We all know he’s got the background and reputation to keep this bank thriving.” His brother had always been the responsible one. Unlike Blake.
“We can’t do that,” Nathaniel said. “When your father cut Simon out of the bank, he named you interim president if he became unable to perform his duties.”
Blake asked the question he should have asked when he’d first found out that he’d been placed in his father’s position. “Then why not find someone else to take my place?”
Nathaniel and Kenneth exchanged a glance. “Because if you decline the position, the board is required to put Ruleford’s up for sale. RBS has already expressed their continued interest,” Kenneth said.
“Vultures,” Nathanial said under his breath.
Blake swallowed, but the sour taste didn’t go away. Leave it to his father to find the one thing that would keep him in line. Ruleford’s Bank had been controlled by his family for four-hundred years, and it was all coming down to him. Blake couldn’t be the one to lose it for his family. It was perhaps the one thing his father had been able to instill in his youngest child—a deep respect for the history and the sanctity of the bank.
The locks were turning, one by one, trapping him here for the foreseeable future. He was a placeholder, a coat placed on a chair to save it, until his father recovered from his stroke and returned to the bank. And every man—and woman— in this room knew it.
Although Blake was the acting President, his father had given him absolutely zero power to do anything. Hell, he couldn’t even issue a memo without someone on the board approving it. He wanted to disappear. Hide from the knowledge that his father didn’t believe he could run the bank.
And yet, the board had agreed to this farce. What did that say about their intelligence?
“A reputable wife would lend you respectability,” Kenneth said, “and be good for public relations. It wouldn’t need to be permanent.”
Blake laughed. “I highly doubt any respectable woman would agree to a fake marriage to anyone—including me—even if only for a few short months.”
Kenneth looked as though he’d swallowed something sour. “I could speak to my granddaughter. Gemma has a strong sense of duty toward her family.”
The last time Blake saw Gemma she was at Club Noir wearing a see-through top and snorting coke off the abs of an American pop star. Perhaps not the best choice. If he was going to be shackled to some woman, it certainly wouldn’t be Gemma. Even he had standards.
Blake drew a slow breath to calm himself. What he really wanted to do was put his fist through Kenneth’s condescending face. As he glanced around the room, a few board members refused to look him in the eyes. A few more shifted uneasily in their seats. Good. At least some of them were uncomfortable with the scheme.
The situation was ridiculous. Crazy. But he didn’t see a way out of it. Even if he did agree to a sham marriage, how was he supposed to make it believable? A marriage needed a shared history. A relationship. An engagement.
Which gave him an idea.
God, he really hated his father right now.
“A fake engagement,” he ground out. It wasn’t ideal, but it was certainly better than marriage, in all its legal and moral complications. “I’ll agree to a fake engagement—to someone of my own choosing—that’s as far as I’ll go.” He hoped he was reading the group correctly.
“We said marriage,” Kenneth said.
“You want me to pretend to be respectable. You want me to publicly declare my intentions of settling down. An engagement will do that just as well as a marriage.”
“He does have a point, Kenneth,” Aunt Dot said from the end of the table. “An engagement will lend the patina of respectability just as well as marriage. And be more believable, given the time frame we’re working with.” A few of the other board members nodded their heads in agreement.
Thank God he had one person in his corner versus the bastion of overdressed men who thought too highly of their own abilities. Blake tugged on the cuffs of his dress shirt and hoped to God his father recovered sooner rather than later, because he didn’t think he could take six more months of Kenneth’s polka-dot bow-ties and condescending attitude.
Kenneth looked around the table, his eyes narrowing at the loss of his support. He returned his dark eyes to Blake. “The board will need approval of this person.”
Blake swallowed the words that wanted to force their way out. “Of course,” he said. He would give anything to be on a beach in the Caribbean right now. Hell, he’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now.
“And,” Kenneth continued, “you need to announce it publicly. Within the week. And of course, no drugs. No partying. No clubs while you’re the acting head of the bank.”
As if they thought he’d be out partying while his father recovered from a stroke in hospital. Of course, if the shoe fit…. Clenching his jaw, Blake nodded his assent.
“Do we need to vote?” He looked around the table. “Verbal?” Several of the board members nodded their approval. “All in favor?” A chorus of ayes met his question. “Opposed?”
Bloody Hell I’m opposed. But he supposed no one heard his thoughts, and silence met the question.
“Approved.” Kenneth once again pointed his skeletal finger at Blake. “You had better make sure this engagement is believable. We need to improve your reputation as quickly as possible.”
He couldn’t help himself. Blake saluted him. “Yes, sir!”
Kenneth pursed his lips in disapproval before turning his chair away with a squeak.
Blake was left with the uncomfortable feeling that he’d just sold his soul to the devil. And no idea where he would find this paragon of virtue who would agree to a fake engagement with someone like him.
Most important, he needed someone who would never in a million years fall for him. He’d almost prefer losing the bank to that.
Buy: